A/N: Hey there. So I'm doing that thing where I put off writing my other stuff again. This one's in first person and is based off a dream I had a while ago, so I hope you like it. Also if there's any mistakes it because i ain't got no beta. Anyways, enjoy!

I would put a disclaimer but its pretty obvious that I don't own glee...

I woke from a dream about going to some high school party. It had to be a dream because I didn't remember anything more about it other than it having music and faceless people. I opened my eyes but immediately shut them from the sharp light that burnt against them. I tried again, but only ended up rolling face down into the pillow below me. I felt drowsy and hollow and achey all at the same time. Never once have I had a hangover like this one; so deafeningly crushing against my head. Actually, I don't remember ever having a hangover. I don't even remember picking up a drink in my entire life. I still my movements as I try to recall my entire life.

Jesus, this hangover is a big one. I can't remember anything.

I turned back over and tried to open my eyes once again, this time actually accomplishing it. They widen at the unfamiliar surroundings, a small room that possibly belonged to a middle school boy with pictures of action movies and comics on the walls. I looked down and noticed that I'm laying on top of a blue bed, completely dressed, but with cuts and bruises between rips in my clothing. I tried not to think much about it, since more than likely if I did I'd probably have a nervous break down. I pushed myself to a sitting position only to get rocked with dizziness and nausea. I rase my hand to cradle my face only to notice a tiny pentagram drawn on it.

What the hell?

My ears perked at the sound of two voices outside the bedroom door. They sounded firm and angry, but I've yet to understand a word they've said. It sounded like another language, but maybe a bit familiar… I didn't know, but maybe they'd know what was going on.

"Hello?" I thought I had said aloud, but instead a loud crackling shriek came out. It didn't even seem like my own as I covered my mouth with both hands. The voices stopped talking and the door opened slowly. No one rushed in for a moment as two high school boys came into view. A tall, goofy looking one had his mouth wide open almost like he was surprised and the other one, a big guy with a face that was the only indicator that he was as young as the other, had his expression contorted with confusion.

Moments passed before they made a sign of movement, the lanky one rushing over to me while the other only came into the room half way. I couldn't place their faces but they definitely recognized mine as the tall boy said words I couldn't understand and constantly made himself not touch me.

That's what it was, English. They were speaking English. Didn't I speak English. I stared intensely as his mouth formed letters that formed words that formed sentences that formed meanings that I just couldn't catch onto. He kept speaking as though I was responding and I heard a word, a name that finally pulled me. Quinn. Oh gosh, that name. That's my name. How did I forget my own name.

My head was beginning to hurt as his gibberish started forming into words and slowly I understood bits and pieces of what he was saying.

"Quinn, are you okay?" The lanky boy said, "I'm sorry… I can explain… You're feeling… Quinn?"

"She's hurt, dude," the other boy said, his voice making me snap my eyes to him. I hated him. I didn't know why, but I did. He was wearing a blue polo shirt and tan pants; a average attire for an average boy. He looked a bit built, maybe a football or hockey player, nothing too special. I also didn't know him, but the more I looked at him and let his voice sink in the more I hated him. I hated him and I was afraid to be in the same room as him. So afraid that I can feel myself physically shaking from him just looking at me.

"Quinn," the other boy in front of me said and I slowly turned my head to face his saddened eyes. He looked so familiar that it was almost comforting. I almost felt like chastising him for wearing a wrinkled stripped shirt and tucking it into funny places in his jeans.

"What happened?"

I thought that was my voice but I couldn't be sure. It was groggy like it hadn't been used in days and didn't sound like anything I've ever heard.

"I, uh," the tall boy swallowed hard, a habit I identified with being nervous, "You died, Quinn."

"What?" I asked. I knew it wasn't my voice because the words seemed to burn through my throat.

"We found you," the boy continued, his voice shaky and uncertain, "Outside Karofsky's house after his party. You were all roughed up and bleeding and we didn't know what to do. Do you remember anything that happened, Quinn?"

Just as the thought appeared my head rung hard, harder then before. The light became too bright and everything was too loud and I thought I was going to puke. So I turned from the boy and laid fully on the bed with my back to both of them. I just needed a minute, nothing was making sense and everything hurt so much.

I woke again from a sleep I didn't know I was even having. It was darker now, it must have been hours ago when I first woke up. I smiled as I realized that my head wasn't pounding and bring myself to a sitting position. Maybe this was all a dream and I'm in my blue room, completely alive and well. Wait, is my room blue or pink? Do I like pink?

I looked around the room and sighed when I recognized it as the room I first woke up in. Below the bed laid the tall boy from before, fast asleep and snoring from the side of his face. I slowly slide myself to my feet and waited until I got the energy to make it to the bathroom that connected to the far right of the room. I closed and locked the door behind me, then turned to face the mirror.

I exhaled in relief as I recognized myself. There were only little differences to how I remember me looking. Like my roots were showing through my tussled blonde hair that was longer than before. I was in a yellow dress that was ripped to shreds at the bottom and a cardigan across my arms that was completely covered in dirt. Blood was splattered in different places and bruises that matched a set of hands circled my neck. If that didn't concern me then the way my face looked older sure did. My eyes more mature and my jaw sculpted. It's like I've fast forwarded and ended upon some sort of jacked up future. How old was I?

A knock on the door startled me, followed by a voice, "Quinn? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a minute," I responded back before turning back to the sink under me and spinning one of the dials. I splashed water on my face and grabbed the closest towel like thing to wipe it. The towel smelled familiar but dingy and it made me scrunch up my nose and cough. I looked down and it had a name that I assumed was the boy's, "Just a minute, Finn."

I opened the door to the tall boy giving a goofy smile, "You remember me."

I didn't necessarily remember anything, but the way his face smiled so innocently and hopefully made me nod my head.

"Okay, I should probably explain something's to you," he said as he led me to sit back on the bed, he followed by sitting next to me, "Do you remember anything from the party?"

I tried to think only for a second before my head began to sting a bit and I decided to just shake my head.

"That's fine, Quinn," he took my hands and they felt shaky and weird, "You weren't having much fun and we had actually gotten into a argument. You stormed off and apparently got wasted. A couple days after the party, I guess you didn't come home and, uh, everyone was worried. Then Karofsky called me. He said he found you and didn't know what to do and of course I didn't believe him till I saw you."

"Someone had messed you up bad, Quinn," he continued, "and you weren't moving or breathing. I couldn't think of a world without you, so Dave gave me this idea of-"

"You didn't call the police?" I asked. I may not have remembered much, but I do know that that's the most logical thing to do if you find a missing person. A missing supposedly dead person.

"We didn't know what to do," he looked down at his hands covering mine, "Then Dave suggested we bring you back to life."

"What about my family?" I inquired ignoring his last statement, "Isn't there people who should know I'm alive?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Quinn. You're not technically alive. We found you dead."

"That doesn't make any sense!" I finally screamed. He had to be making this up. I'm talking to him right now, how I even be close to dead?

"Shh, Quinn, it's okay," he tried to calm me but it felt like I was on fire and I yanked my hands free from him.

"Don't tell me it's okay! You just told me that I died and it's suppose to be okay? I don't even know who you are!"

He scrunched up his face, "What do you mean? You just said my name two minutes ago."

"Dude, I don't even know my own fucking name!"

He stood up and gave me a incredulous look, "Calm down! Jesus, it sure doesn't seem like you lost your memory. Still yelling at me like always. Dave was right, you'll be back to your crazy self in no time."

That word, crazy, it reminded me of something. Something that made my mouth sour and my head hurt. I didn't want to remember it though, so I shoved the slowly manifesting memory away and the pain quickly left. I looked down and noticed that some how I was now straddling the tall boy, left fist full of his collar and right fist hung in the air above me. His eyes bulged out in fear and mine were wide in surprise that I took him down so easily. I didn't know why I got so mad, but I did know that he shouldn't call people crazy. It doesn't justify anything.

Instead of saying that, I slipped off of the boy and distanced myself from him. I didn't move off the floor as I brought my legs to my chest and whispered, "I'm sorry."

He swallowed hard before nodding his head, "It's okay."

It wasn't though. If a smidgen of what he said was true, then I died and was brought back to life. It's not possible, but he sure is using my temporary amnesia to his advantage because I can't think of anything to refute his story. It's so messed up, I don't even know how I died.

I laid my head on my knees and sighed. I wanted to start crying, but I could tell my body hates that so I tried to hold it in. I didn't know what to do to make this better. I should want to go home, but I don know what home is. God, I don't even remember my last name.

There it is, that's just the beginning if y'all like it.